


The House of Lilies

by entanglednow



Series: Serpentine [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Cloaca, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Snake Anatomy, Snake Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Transformation, snake sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale visit the botanical gardens, and do a little experimenting in their serpent forms.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Serpentine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893415
Comments: 221
Kudos: 737
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, Courts GO Re-Reads, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side, Top Crowley Library





	The House of Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> Quite a few people wanted to know what happened after Aziraphale's snake adventure. Since he spent the whole time doing the snake equivalent of draping himself over Crowley and demanding to be entwined. Poor Crowley resisted, since the angel had no idea. But they get a second chance to hang out as snakes, and Aziraphale has a better understanding of what snake flirting looks like. Crowley may lose his mind. 
> 
> I made this a sequel instead of a second chapter mostly due to the bump in rating.

Aziraphale had been mortified when Crowley reluctantly explained that he'd spent his first day as a snake flirting with him. The angel had then spent half an hour browsing the library's reptile section. Which led to a series of stuttered apologies that Crowley had quickly dismissed with a collection of throat noises and a few ' _you weren't to know_ ,' and ' _it's all good, angel_.' Pointing it out at all had been bad enough, and Crowley hadn't wanted Aziraphale to feel bad about the whole thing. It's not like he hadn't taken a few liberties as well. He can still remember the smooth chill of the angel's scales under his fingers, and the way he'd been unable to resist the temptation to slither over the length of Aziraphale's tail, just to feel the slow curl of it on his belly scales.

No, Crowley can't hate a single thing about that day, not just because it had been the most frustratingly erotic of his entire life so far. It had also eventually led to a nervous, tentative grasp of his hand the next time they were in the park together, and then a significantly less tentative grasp of hand on the way home. Then, some weeks of enthusiastic hand-holding later, on the doorstep of the bookshop - after Aziraphale had insisted on walking him out - Crowley had taken a stupid, beautiful chance, and very slowly leaned in. He'd been certain for a few, agonising seconds that the movement was too fast, or too much, that the suggestion of a kiss would knock them all the way back to what they'd been before Armageddon failed. But Aziraphale had surprised him by tangling a hand in his jacket and pulling him the rest of the way.

So, they kissed now.

Kissing was a thing that they did.

Crowley isn't entirely sure that it's sunk in yet. He keeps slowly repeating it to himself in his own head, and he honestly doesn't care if it just stays something impossible and thrilling that refuses to settle. Bouncing around and occasionally reminding him that _they kissed now._

Though he reasons that it gives him permission to show up at the bookshop with wine and chocolate and flowers whenever he likes, to invite the angel out for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, or for a walk in the park. Crowley's been doing that for three weeks now. Mostly because the first time he'd tried it the angel had lit up in surprised delight around the bouquet Crowley had spent an hour choosing for him. Quite literally in fact, sunlight cutting across his halo in a way that might look like proof of the divine to passers-by, if any of them had been paying attention, or even looking their way at the time - which they hadn't been.

But today Aziraphale had told him he had another surprise planned. An outing that they could enjoy together now they had an 'understanding of a romantic nature.' Which Crowley had made rude noises at, but hadn't protested - at least not loudly. Not when it made the angel's cheeks flush warm, made him look like he wanted to be kissed.

Which Crowley could do, because they kissed now.

Aziraphale had planned a date, this is clearly a date, and the very idea of that is frankly astonishing. Even if Crowley is a withered, ancient thing, too jaded and demonic to be excited about something as simple and human as a date. He tells himself that repeatedly while changing his outfit seven times and glaring his hairstyle into place so hard that he's not sure that even an unexpected gale could shift it. It's probably not going to be any different than what they normally do. It's just a bloody outing, an outing where they happened to be together now. A surprise outing the angel had planned in detail, and was clearly excited about. 

Aziraphale had planned a date for them and Crowley is fucking beside himself. Though quietly, where there's no chance of anyone seeing.

The angel is waiting for him outside the bookshop, smiling fit to burst and wearing what looks like a brand new bow tie. Crowley has catalogued every one he owns, and there's just a touch more blue than usual to the pattern of this one. Had he actually updated his wardrobe with new clothes? This is unprecedented behaviour.

"You're early," Aziraphale says cheerfully, as if that _means_ something.

Crowley's not always late, he doesn't always slip in unexpectedly while Aziraphale is looking in another direction. He only made a habit of it so he could watch that smile of delighted recognition and fondness open on the angel's face - before it was hidden away again. But being fiendish and spontaneous means that he can also be early if he wants to. An expression of casual interest and amusement on his face. Though lately he's found himself constantly defeated by his own stupid mouth trying to smile half way through. Traitor. 

"Hello, angel."

"Crowley." Aziraphale slides in close and loops their arms together. "I thought we might have a walk around the botanical gardens together?"

Honestly, Crowley would have been happy sitting in a dirty alley discussing the latest issue of Horse Weekly if Aziraphale wanted to. But he still makes a surprised noise at his choice of destination. Since that seems more - more something Crowley might have chosen for them. Which, he realises, is exactly why the angel picked it. He slides his hands into his pockets lest any emotion escape and humiliate him utterly. Which also manages to squeeze the arm Aziraphale had looped around his tight to his own body, to the angel's obvious delight.

"Sounds good," he gets out, somehow. "Great choice, plants are good."

He has to release Aziraphale's arm to open the car door for him. Though the smile he gets when he gently encourages him inside is more than worth it.

The angel has clearly not only planned things but made _arrangements_ for them.

They're left alone by both staff and members of the public to wander and reminisce, and get lost in a good-natured argument about long-lost gardens of antiquity. An argument Crowley lets him win, because even the thought of turning that amused smile into anything else is unthinkable. Not today of all days.

Crowley ends up answering a lot of unexpected questions of a botanical nature, while Aziraphale makes noises that seem genuinely interested, then adds comments and details that confirm he's listening. The angel even takes his hand as they roam the rock garden, flowers of the Mediterranean blooming around them. Aziraphale points out various large rocks used as decoration, asks Crowley cheekily which ones are best for basking. Which almost feels like a gentle nudging reminder of their brief, flirtatious afternoon together, but he answers him honestly, tells the angel which textures to try if he ever wants to be a snake again - the idea of which he doesn't want to dwell on too long, lest he become terribly distracted. 

When your whole body is connected to a surface it's different, Crowley tries to explain. The unstable, soft-heavy feel of sand, or the airy dampness of leaves on his belly, even the strange weightlessness of water. He forgets exactly where he's going with the explanation when Aziraphale links their arms together again, his large hand curling around Crowley's bicep, invitingly warm through two layers of fabric.

They stop for tea, flapjacks, and strong, black coffee, Aziraphale even buys tacky souvenirs to 'commemorate the occasion,' and he says that with a smile that Crowley is just supposed to accept. Even though he can feel his corporation's heart doing frankly impossible things inside his chest.

Once they start moving again Aziraphale takes his hand and - as if it had been their destination all along - Crowley finds himself encouraged not so subtly in the direction of the Waterlily House. The large structure promises a pond of water lilies, draping greenery and hanging gourds, the glass of it reflecting the sunlight so the whole thing sparkles.

The inside is warm and humid, but the taste of water, plants and blooming lilies is pleasant enough.

"Oh, this is lovely." Aziraphale drifts towards the large pond, with its vast lily pads and heavy, full flowers that float on the surface in shades of cream, pink and vibrant purple. He gives a long sigh. "I hope you've enjoyed today as much as I have." He reaches out to touch the open petals of a lily, the delicate things folding under his fingers.

Crowley slinks close enough to lean in beside him, tipping his head at an angle that lets Aziraphale see his eyes over the top of his glasses.

"You know I have," he offers. There's a grudging sort of tone to the words that he doesn't mean. It's mostly instinctive when forced to have a good opinion about anything. "Wouldn't have spent it anywhere else," he tries again, making it softer and more honest. Because Aziraphale deserves it, no time spent with him is ever wasted.

The smile the angel gives him for it is impossibly fond. It's not a new smile, not at all, but he's more willing to wear it where Crowley can see now. 

"That's very good to hear. Because I have one last thing planned for today." He sways a little, as if the idea excites him.

Crowley lifts an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"I do hope you'll like it."

"Course I will," Crowley tells him, and that's instinctive too, in its own way. How could he hate anything that Aziraphale had planned for the two of them to do together? When they'd spent years clawing out every moment, every meeting, every rendezvous - which, he realises now, makes certain suggestions about their activities. Much like 'fraternizing' had done, even if that word was still too sharp to play with yet. "What are you up to?"

Aziraphale just gives a close-mouthed smile, and makes his way around the pond, seemingly fascinated by the colourful flowers that dot the water, and the large lily pads settled gently on the surface.

"I was hoping you'd teach me how to swim," he says. Which is such an odd suggestion that Crowley's left frowning in genuine confusion for a moment.

"You already know how to swim. I saw you swim five thousand years ago."

There's a noise of agreement, a confirmation that's almost amused - but before Crowley can ask for clarification Aziraphale lays his hands on the railing of the pond, and then - _flows over it._ His well-loved outfit becomes a sleek line of muscle and white scales, the smirking expression shifting into a long snout and a searching pink lash of tongue. Before Aziraphale is slithering his way across a lily pad with all the reckless determination of a snake-shaped angel who has no doubt whatsoever that Crowley will join him - and save him from drowning if necessary.

Crowley swears and does exactly that, pushing himself off the railing while also telling his body to elongate and pull its limbs in. He doesn't make for a lily pad, he arrows straight into the water, which is warmer and shallower than he's expecting, rich with life and trailing roots. He finds the bottom with his lower body, gives a push to bring himself up at the exact point where the angel is already half dangling in the water.

They bump snouts, and Aziraphale can't seem to help the backwards wriggle of delight, before he surges quickly forward to bump him again. Which Crowley would tell him is a little too enthusiastically friendly to be a simple greeting, but he enjoys it far too much.

"What are you doing, angel? We're going to get caught!"

"No we're not." Aziraphale twists his serpent head in the direction of the entrance, which is now quite obviously shut.

Crowley uses the edge of a lily pad to ease himself up and look around. He hadn't even noticed the people leaving. He'd wager if he went outside now he'd find a sign that said something like 'closed for water treatment.' He hadn't even noticed Aziraphale using any angelic influence, he was distracted by...well, he was distracted.

"This is just for us," Aziraphale tells him. He looks as pleased as it's possible for a snake to look, his glossy white body surrounded by huge purple and pink blooms like something out of a bloody painting. The angel's tongue flutters out in his direction, and Crowley tastes the shape of it as it warms the air.

"Aziraphale, this is a public attraction, shame on you." Crowley can't help but be amused, and more than a touch proud. He slithers into a loop, ready to catch the angel if his wet body slips from the pad.

"So, how does one swim as a snake?" Aziraphale asks curiously, dangling a little lower until his searching tongue finds the water again, snout breaking the surface. "I'm at something of a loss with no limbs." 

He's still instinctively trying to use his tail to hold on to things. Even though Crowley has told him that real snakes don't work like that. 

Crowley pulls himself in closer, lets his own long tail spiral down and brace him against the bottom, which he finds to be deeper towards the middle of the pond.

"Take a deep breath and you'll be neutrally buoyant. When you want to surface release it and then smooth gliding pushes towards the top. Once you break the water, steady back and forth motions until you reach something you can clamber onto."

Aziraphale is already trying to slither over the black scales of his midsection and into the inviting water. Crowley hisses and gives a warning thrash of tail into the angel's path, which Aziraphale immediately rubs his nose on, as if he finds the protective gesture impossibly touching.

"Stop being so impatient. If I see you having trouble I will pitch you onto a lily pad, so if you'd like to skip the indignity I suggest you take it ssseriously."

Aziraphale rumbles what feels a lot like laughter, but bonks his head against Crowley's again to show he understands, before starting to ease into the depths more slowly.

"It's warmer than I was expecting - oh."

He forgets to take a breath, of course he does, Crowley dips under the water and nudges him back to the surface, water glinting on his scales like diamonds.

"I forgot I couldn't close my eyes," Aziraphale says, sounding terribly amused at himself. 

"You forgot you had to breathe too," Crowley accuses. "Can't take you anywhere."

Aziraphale hisses agreement and slithers over Crowley's neck, causing him to bob in the water until he sets himself gently slithering back and forth. The angel's heavy midsection keeps sinking because he's moving from the back up, not the middle down. He tells him as much.

"Haven't quite got the hang of it yet." Aziraphale is still trying though. "It's been a while, perhaps I should have practised being a snake a bit more."

Crowley lets the angel use him as a flotation device, taking the weight of him, feeling every determined wriggle, until he gets it. Then he reluctantly lets him slither into the water on his own.

"You really are very good to me," Aziraphale says quietly. "You always have been."

Crowley's protesting noise isn't even close to a word, he's tempted to splash water at him but the angel looks like he's having such a good time, knocking large blooms across the surface, getting briefly tangled around a watery stem.

"This is a very unique sensation. It feels very fluid - until I notice it, and then it ssseems like a lot of work and I forget how to start the movement."

He's trying so hard, and Crowley's so in love that it physically hurts. Maybe more like this, since he has no limbs to distract himself from the vast, empty space in his chest that Aziraphale insists on filling every time he so much as looks at him.

"Oh, I think I might have cracked it," Aziraphale tells him, making a slow and slightly awkward turn around a large lily pad. The white streak of him slithering around the greenery is more lovely than Crowley has words for. He curls himself around the fat stem of a lily and sinks low enough in the water to watch Aziraphale wriggling and undulating through the water. The movement loses a little of its awkward back and forth jerkiness, seems to become a bit more instinctive. The angel even speeds up a little, tongue held delicately above the water in a way that feels ridiculously fussy. He gives a hissing noise of triumph and skirts another lily pad, the petals shaking off onto his long body until they're painted pink and translucent along the length of his neck.

Nothing so clumsy should ever get to look so lovely. Even as Crowley thinks it, Aziraphale meets a tight group of stems in the water and gets confused about where his body is, ends up awkwardly ducking a bloom and then briefly flailing upside down, much to his obvious embarrassment.

Crowley detaches and heads for him.

"No, no, it'sss fine." Aziraphale rights himself against Crowley's body, the shape of him sagging briefly before he remembers to keep moving. "I've got it, minor mishap with the bloom, wasss bigger than I expected."

Crowley hisses a dubious noise and follows him slowly, making sure he doesn't get tangled again, or confused about which parts he's supposed to be moving at a time. Swimming together around the pond is surprisingly enjoyable, bodies nudging every time they turn, and the warm rush of the angel's happiness in his mouth every time he breathes.

Aziraphale eventually pulls his wet length up and across a lily pad, then comes to a rest in a heaped pile of tired, happy coils, petals bouncing off the glossy length of him. Snakes aren't supposed to be able to smile, but somehow Aziraphale's managing it again.

Crowley is still pulling himself up to rest on the pad next to him, which is large and sturdy enough to contain them both, once Crowley suggests that it should be. There's a hissing laugh in his long throat, at the way Aziraphale is almost rolling over to draw his coils in. But the angel surprises him by rearing up beside him, water still beading on his scales and leaving them glistening fetchingly in the sunlight. Crowley's stuck for anything to say that isn't just a useless collection of vowels, or worse, something honest, something that might leave the angel thinking that Crowley likes him better this way, which is the last thing he wants.

But before he can offer any comment at all, Aziraphale slithers in close, snout butting briefly against Crowley's in friendly greeting, before it drops down, nudging underneath his mouth so the whole smooth, shiny top of the angel's head can rub underneath his own.

It's a rasping rush of sensation and pressure, right where Crowley is sensitive, and he can taste Aziraphale in the back of his mouth. The angel knows enough about snakes now. He knows that he shouldn't - he knows what that signifies, what he's asking for - what he's offering.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley tries to wrangle his tongue into some sort of order, when all it wants to do is slither across Aziraphale's mouth and throat. See if he tastes receptive -

"Yes." The pale stretch of the angel's body awkwardly pulls in, until there's a whole coil of wet scales tucked against Crowley's neck. It feels as if the angel is trying to encourage him to wind, to spiral and curl around him. It's so blatant that Crowley finds himself instinctively looping his lower body around where he's curled himself, containing him. But he promised he'd say something this time - he promised he'd let Aziraphale know if he was doing anything that might be taken the wrong way.

"Aziraphale, this is very - fuck - suggestive."

Aziraphale doesn't stop. He just gives a quiet, considering hiss and moves his head slightly to the right, so he can rub the other side. The gentle rasp of his scales is throwing his scent into Crowley's mouth in wild, hot bursts. It's so sharply erotic that Crowley's briefly dizzy with it. His brain can't help but follow that suggestive movement to its most appealing outcome.

"Angel -"

"Tell me to stop." Aziraphale's tongue gives two slow flutters across Crowley's snout, briefly whiting out his snake brain entirely. "Tell me to stop and I will."

To stop? As if that would ever be something Crowley could want. As if he hasn't dreamt about this since the moment Aziraphale slithered into his lap, all wriggling delight and hot serpent smell, flirting like something dragged out of Crowley's most obscene fantasies.

"Depends," he manages to choke out, tipping his head up to get a clear mouthful of air. Which barely helps, Aziraphale is so close, the weight of him pressed to Crowley's vulnerable throat. "If you know what you're doing?"

Please by all the powers of above and below let the angel know what he was doing this time.

As if Aziraphale can read his mind, he draws back, turns a slow circle on the lily pad. He exposes the long line of his spine to Crowley, and he makes a show of it too, the bloody tease. Before twisting his head back to look at him. Crowley cautiously slithers in behind him, sets his snout down on the wide midsection of the angel's body and very slowly starts to nudge his way upwards.

Aziraphale goes very still for a moment, then starts to shift forward in brief, jerky pulls, a teasing suggestion that he might at any moment escape. Crowley's whole body clenches in delight at having his tentative overtures accepted. The angel's wet scales are raspy-cool against his own, the slow, downward presses of Crowley's body flattening him just a little. The fact that the angel lets him, lets Crowley cover him and even copies Crowley's movements, suggests that he wants - there's a sharp, sudden hiss, and then Aziraphale is struggling out from underneath him. Crowley's already rearing back, ready to apologise for his weird, snake enthusiasm, which Aziraphale clearly didn't mean to invite - only to find the angel trying his best to wind around Crowley's neck. Trying to get his small snake chin on top of Crowley's much larger head.

It's almost instinctive to rear up, to use his far greater size, speed and experience to twist and wrap around Aziraphale twice, bearing him down against the lily pad, as he twists their lower bodies together, winding around the muscle of him, feeling the ethereal hum beneath the surface, letting his tongue play over his warming scales. Oh, by all that's unholy the angel tastes playful and aroused and it's intoxicating.

Aziraphale is giving that quick, coughing sound and Crowley knows he's laughing, delighted by Crowley's response.

He did that on purpose.

_On purpose._

Oh, but Aziraphale feels incredible under and around him, as Crowley coaxes him to rise as high as he can, encouraging him to stretch and spiral round his body in turn. When the angel carefully does so, Crowley squeezes him gently, then bears him back down against the lily pad, rubbing his head helplessly across the top of the angel's.

"Aziraphale." Crowley realises abruptly how far this has gone. Without a single word being spoken. They've never done anything like this in human form. They've never touched each other, never undressed and slipped into bed together. Crowley's cloacal scale is already half-open, his whole body vibrating with need. He can smell how aroused Aziraphale is, and he knows that if he twists his lower body in just the right way he could coax their vents together. That he could spear into Aziraphale's cloaca and leave them locked together all night. The thought of it is sudden and overwhelming - and he's left hissing and twisting tighter around the angel's bright scales for a long, indulgent moment. "Aziraphale, do you know what you're doing?"

Aziraphale's made no move to stop him, he stretches and pushes and lets himself be pressed into the greenery, giving quiet hisses of surprised pleasure, arching his neck into Crowley's furious rubs.

"We can still stop, angel," Crowley forces out. Even though the thought of unwinding from him is physically painful at this point. But he so very badly needs Aziraphale to say yes to this. It can't be something they just fall into, something instinctive and sharp and wild that could be dismissed as an accident. He doesn't want it to be something the angel might regret later. "If you need to. This isn't like - this isn't like anything we've done before."

Aziraphale's tongue gives a slow, sliding flick, the fork brushing Crowley's scales. One blue serpent eye, wide and unblinking, meets his own.

"Do you want to stop?" he asks. So soft and careful, though his body is still gently trying to undulate under Crowley's own. It's very fucking distracting.

"If we carry on I'm going to end up inside your cloaca," Crowley tells him, because he's hoping that being blunt will make this sink in. They are effectively having sex, this isn't fun and games any more. "We are going to fuck on this lily pad. Do you want our first time to be like this?"

The idea of it, of being joined together as snakes, of finding their pleasure like this - Crowley can feel his insides heat impossibly at the thought of it. Hemipenes aching in the depths of his cloaca.

Instead of protesting, and Crowley honestly expects him to, Aziraphale's whole body flattens, scales stretching under his own, his tongue slides out and vibrates through the air in eager flicks. Crowley knows the angel can taste how aroused he is too. He can taste how much Crowley wants this, how could he not? 

"How do I - how do I tell you that I want that?" Aziraphale asks quietly. "How do I show you that I'm...receptive to your advances like this."

_Satan help him_.

Crowley's head gently pins him still, even as he drags their lower bodies in closer. His beautiful unbelievably reckless angel is going to discorporate him.

"Lift your tail for me, show me you're ready, let me see you."

Aziraphale gives a deep, sighing hiss, as if the words were just as affecting to hear as they were for Crowley to say. The angel's long, thin tail tugs itself upwards, exposing the rise of powder-blue scale at the base, and the deep pink of his open cloaca. The sight of which is so unbearably fucking erotic that Crowley can do nothing but hiss and squeeze instinctively at the angel's body. He presses down on his head, snout tucking in and sliding over his mouth as his body pins Aziraphale to the green floor. Crowley's own tail thrashes desperately closer, even as his cloacal scale shifts fully open.

"Can I - will you show me?" Aziraphale twists his head to see, and Crowley obediently drags them into an awkward U so the angel can watch him evert, both hemipenes easing out, red and slick from his body.

Crowley has never felt so exposed, or so aroused.

"Are you going to use both?" Aziraphale asks. He sounds more curious than nervous, his tail is stretched out tight and sharp, not a curl to it, and it quivers in anticipation. But Crowley rubs their mouths together with a soothing hiss anyway.

"I'm going to use one, then the other. And you have to tell me if you don't like it. It's not the same - it won't feel like humans do it. Our bodies don't work that way."

_Our bodies_. This is perhaps the first time they've ever been the same - and it thrills him.

Aziraphale's 'hmm' should be impossible in serpentine form, but Crowley hears it anyway. His winds around him a touch more, makes their spiral a little tighter,

"If I stay inside you too long I'll lock us together, and there's - fuck -" Crowley tongue flutters, he's too aroused for this conversation. "After, when we're done I might - ah - maybe leave something inside you."

Aziraphale gives a hissing laugh. "That is how it normally endsss."

"Not that," Crowley says, with a bonk of head. "A, y'know, thingy, to keep it inside."

"Ssso no one else can have me." Aziraphale's voice is quiet but strangely eager.

_Oh sweet unholy fuck._ The angel makes it sound like he wants it. Crowley doesn't know how he's supposed to deal with that.

"Ssso no one elssse can have you," he confirms, and saying it makes his entire body throb in anticipation. He can feel the heat of Aziraphale's vent against his lower scales, the tugging impatience of his tail.

"Sounds reasonable," Aziraphale agrees. "Since I'm certainly already yours." He wriggles slowly back into Crowley's naked hemipenes, demanding, provocative, and - combined with the words - arousing beyond measure.

Crowley drags Aziraphale in close, finds where his cloaca is wet and open, _receptive_ and - fuck, deliciously tight under the desperately eager slippery push of Crowley's hemipenis into him. Aziraphale's hiss is low and deep, his whole body clenching and then arching backwards into the stretching pressure of Crowley sinking inside him for the very first time.

"Crowley." It's more like his usual voice, angel bleeding through in that strained, delighted word. 

Crowley has lost the ability to think, let alone speak for a moment, he's just leaving low, urgent hisses across the scales on Aziraphale's head, squirming deeper, slithering back and forth to work himself all the way inside. The angel is all exquisite heat, tight and smooth, opening in a deep stretch for Crowley's sex. The taste of the angel changes on his tongue, there are notes of surprise, satisfaction and joy, all mingling with the desire as Crowley joins them together.

"Crowley." Aziraphale's head twists under his own, seeking the long opening of his mouth - and every sliding push throws that incredible mixture of emotions and hot need into Crowley's mouth, has his tongue snapping out, head rubbing even as he throbs and twists and squirms, an endless bid to get deeper even though they're already tangled up hard and tight.

It's fucking blissful and Crowley can't do anything but let the pleasure of it shudder through him for a moment.

"You good, angel?" he asks, the words barely more than a quick, breathy vibration. But Crowley has to know, he has to make sure. "Tell me you still want this, tell me this is ok." Because it's so good, so tight, so sweet to be crammed all the way inside, feeling the slow stretch of Aziraphale's scaled length, the quick, pleasurable clenches of his cloaca as they writhe slowly together.

"It'sss perfect - ssso much, I can feel you all the way through my body, I can tassste how much you - I can tassste your affection, and your desssire, it's intoxicating." There's a long, slow twist which tugs Crowley pleasantly out an inch or so, before shunting him back inside. They both squirm and tighten in surprised appreciation, and the angel does it again, and again. Crowley shows him how to speed the movement up, shows him how to contract and stretch like a snake being mated - and Aziraphale loses all coherent thought to a broken, overwhelmed hiss at the words.

"Asssiraphale." Crowley never expected their first time to be like this. He's never done this as a snake, never expected to ever do this as a snake. Save for a few abstract fantasies - and a handful of dreams that he'd guiltily wanked over - he's always had hands and legs and a mouth that can kiss when he imagined this. But to be this - to share this with the angel, Crowley has never felt anything like it. He never wants to feel it with anyone who isn't Aziraphale. There's a strange intimacy to it, a vulnerability in being so honest about the core of himself. A desperate gratitude that Aziraphale had chosen to share it with him. A first time for both of them - and it's beautiful.

They move together, feeling the exquisite, rolling swells of pleasure as they find new ways to press their scales together, new sensitive areas to rub and squeeze and slide against. The angel is just making hot, breathy noises of dizzy bliss, head arched back so his whole throat is exposed for Crowley to taste, to slide against, to press under his own.

"Crowley, don't stop, don't stop."

Even when they end up in a roughly tangled ball, their bodies tugging and pulling where their vents are shoved together, Aziraphale doesn't resist, doesn't pull away. He keeps hissing Crowley's name, squirming underneath him, pushing back into the rolling wave of his coils.

When Crowley finally comes inside him, on a hissing wave of pleasure and delight and satisfaction, it's not the end. Aziraphale shunts greedily backwards as soon as he slips free, tail tugging higher to expose his open cloaca, deep pink and glistening wetly, looking so beautifully used. He encourages the shift and stabbing push of Crowley's second hemipenis into him.

"If I'd known you would be so desperately greedy for this," Crowley says, as he drives in deep with his sensitive second cock, which finds the angel still warm and tight and exquisitely ready for him. "I would have wrapped around you the first time you showed me this body."

Aziraphale shudders at the words, squeezing rhythmically on every twitching roll and pull.

"I would have had you right there on the floor of the bookshop if you'd asked me to," Crowley admits, with greedy honesty. "Stretched the beautiful length of you out and twisted myself around you, found the heat of you -" Crowley loses all his words at the thought of it, he's just quietly hissing in a way that sounds like a whine.

"Yes," Aziraphale agrees, tongue playing across the lily pad so fast that the forks are a blur. "Yes, please, Crowley, please." He sounds delighted, as if Crowley can go back in time and make it happen. Maybe he could, maybe they both could, if they wanted it enough. He didn't know how much he'd want this - doesn't know how ever he lived without it. This is better than anything he's ever imagined.

They don't talk for a long while, squirming across the green surface as the water bounces and ripples beneath it. Crowley leaves his pleasure in him again and again, switching between his hemipenes when one is satisfied. The angel doesn't refuse, doesn't tell him to slow down. He encourages him to twist tighter, to cram himself deeper, until they're a tangled ball of sensation and affection and love.

-

The sun's rising outside the lily house when Crowley registers that he's just been rubbing his snout gently against Aziraphale's for a long stretch of time, possibly hours. He's locked deep and tight in the angel's beautiful, scaled body, and pleasure is still gently vibrating through him in a wave. He could stay this way for longer, for days, weeks maybe, but that's probably a plan for somewhere a little more private. A plan for later, if Aziraphale wants to do this again. Judging by the quiet, satisfied noises the angel's making against his scales, he hopes that they can.

"Angel, I think it's time to go," he says with quiet reluctance.

Aziraphale curls into him, a gentle, dreamy writhe - before he stills and then hisses surprise, as if he'd been too deep in his own pleasure to register the time, night turning to day again unnoticed.

"Gosh, we've been here a while, haven't we?" He sounds as if he might apologise, but instead he gently nudges their heads together. "Not that I regret a moment of it."

Crowley's whole body feels the sentiment, muscles contracting in pleasure.

"Aziraphale." He rubs his mouth against the angel's. He has missed the kissing, he will admit. 

"I find I don't want to separate." Aziraphale draws both their lower bodies in, a delicious tug at Crowley's sex where it's still buried in him. His whole body squeezes the angel in delighted agreement.

"We could separate long enough to get back to the bookshop. Shut ourselves up somewhere for a week or two?" Crowley offers hopefully. It sounds like a dream come true, if he's being honest. But he doesn't want to push.

Aziraphale twists, nudges Crowley's large head so he can press down on top of it and let his tongue slide across the long opening of his mouth. Crowley's whole body writhes in delight.

"Oh, I rather like the sound of that." Aziraphale gives a slow, careful stretch. "Though you'd have to withdraw from me first."

Crowley considers it.

It will be worth it in the end.

He reluctantly pulls free of the warmth of Aziraphale's body, slowly untangling them, leaving them two snakes again, chilling quickly in the damp air. Aziraphale's warm, stretched cloaca takes a while to slowly shut, the long length of his tail dangling indulgently in the water.

They swim slowly to the edge together, slide over it and flow back into their human bodies.

Aziraphale wavers for a moment, unsteady on his feet. Crowley curls an arm around his waist, and they spend a moment smiling at each other, indulging in expressions, and limbs, in weight and warmth.

"You spent a long time as a snake," Crowley soothes. "Give it a minute." He leans down and kisses the soft warmth of his mouth. Aziraphale hums delight, as if he's had the best idea, lifts his hands and kisses him back, slow and deep. It's so perfect and so necessary that he finds it very hard to pull away. The angel seems to agree, so they kiss for a while, until the sun hits the glass behind them, outlines them in light.

Aziraphale doesn't even try not to look like an angel, and his smile is infectious.

"That was one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had."

Crowley's afraid he won't be able to make words in reply, but he can't keep how that makes him feel inside. They're lovers now, he realises, they've made love. For the first time.

"Yeah, angel, for me too," he says simply, then draws Aziraphale in tight and kisses him again, enjoys the way he can enfold him in his arms, the way he can push his soft curls of hair off his face. That he can hold him like this.

"Let's go home," Aziraphale says, and lays a kiss against the loops of his serpent tattoo.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] House of Lilies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096176) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Podfic] The House of Lilies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126818) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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